The Hunters

JA Bard

Prolog

Under the bright scorching summer sun Santo Rio Cabal was
a colorless shanty town, and at first glimpse a traveler would think it was
deserted. Fierce winter winds reduced to shambles most upright walls, leaving
few buildings with a roof and enclosed shelter. However, once a year the town
was overrun by a group of people determined to change it's appearance for the
duration of twelve days. It was a celebration for the Week of the Dead. To keep
eyes from too close a study of the town’s real face, thebridge, the only structure that weathered well, was painted the
brightest and gaudiest of all the newly repaired and painted structures.

Across the bridge a desolate landscape was transformed
into a carney town. Structures with fake fronts only meant to hide the tricks,
games and illusions, vied with each other for attention. It was the annual
celebration that brought a galaxy of visitors, starting with the vendors and
carneys, and then the celebrants for the twelve days to honor death in its
perverse and natural trappings. Lavish costumes, parades, impromptu flash mob
treasure hunts, and nonstop parties were held in makeshift streets and any
available space. A scattering of assassinations and suicides were part of the
cultish atmosphere. The less reckless thieves held off doing business for fear
that a victim may turn into mob justice where their death would fit into the
celebration. Though the majority of visitors were there for entertainment with
a heavy emphasis on cultish overtones, there were those that came in memory of
someone who had died.

The Santo Rio Cabal residents didn’t chose to be the city for the Week of the Dead
Celebration but they didn’t reject it either. The strangers left them with
temporary shelters until the winter winds dismantled them with loud howling
along with the stinging sand that whipped anything that was above the dirt into
featureless mounds. There was also the trash and discarded items left behind
that were treasures for those that had so little.

How did such a desolate spot in the wastelands become so
important to host this yearly event?

There are too many stories to recount in one sitting, but
most involved a stranger, a secret, and an unexplained death. Der Jägers (the
Hunters) they called themselves, made a yearly pilgrimage to honor a highly
regarded member who died mysteriously in Santo Rio Cabal. To mask their
gathering the carnival was created. Santo Rio Cabal became their get-together
to exchange news, tips, check out the competition and prepare for a new year of
hunting. Meetings and deals were made amongst the hunters, their contacts and
snitches. It was also when paybacks and IOUs were collected, sometimes with a
life.

Treasure hunters came in all shapes and sizes as befit
their species, and likewise those interested in the mundane as well as the
unseen world. Those new to the game were spellbound with tales from the others,
with some so outright daft it was believable.

* * *

It was the third night of revelry and Santo Rio Cabal’s
revelers were going strong with their body lights shinning their way and carnie
stalls trying to outdo the swaying celebrants’ lights with their neon flashing
signs.

One visitor caught in the center of a flash mob looked
around with interest as the boisterous milling crowd shouted possible answers
to a clue that would take them to the next spot. The heat of the day had
finally dissipated with a strong breeze giving some relief for those that
didn’t come with air cooled clothing or water bottles. It also gave some relief
to the stifling smells from so many different species. Not all bathed and not
all were pleasant smelling even in their cleaned state.

The snapping from the flags on the bridge brought the
visitor’s eyes back to the edge of the bridge. A small light flashed as a
Lucifer was lit. It was just another light among others. A bud of heat expanded
exposing an old craggily lined face and then the Lucifer was put out. The tip
of a fag brightened for a moment as the smoker sucked on the rolled herb stick.
The visitor headed for the smoker, keeping alert for anyone that may interrupt
their meeting.

A push from behind by a group hurrying to get a closer
view of the dancers as they snaked through the street had the stranger nose to
nose with the smoker.

"So sorry," the visitor muttered under breath.

"Yeah, so you are," the smoker drawled in a
hoarse sarcastic voice. The breath was heavy with the sickly smell of disease.

On the surface neither appeared to be interested in the
other but rather in the colorful dancers. Celebrants pressed on all sides,
wanting to get behind the dancers as soon as they passed. The closeness made it
easier to pass information, as well as easier for an assassin to complete a
contract.

"I’ve been followed. The chip tells it all."
With that the smoker joined the celebrants as they fell like a wave behind the
dancers who became more animated as they thumped a rhythm on the bridge,
shaking it to its very foundations.

After ten minutes of furious pounding of feet they tossed
brightly colored scented wreaths into the filthy river. The dancers then led
their followers to bars, street vendors and sex shops on the other side of the
bridge. The crowd followed example, throwing their purchased wreaths into the
water and began the chant their leaders yelled as they joyously entered the
carney town. Five times a day they danced across the bridge and tossed flowers.
Five times throughout the night. Five times before the sun rose. An ecology
minded activist group supplied the flower wreaths which were chemically treated
to neutralize most of the contaminants in the river. It helped, though not for
long as the offending polluters up the river continued their habits of dumping
their waste into a river that affected a neighborhood that had no political
clout.

The visitor moved into the flow of people, gradually
working away from the main push and then morphing into a brightly dressed
reveler with the flick of material.

There was plenty of time to review the chip. What was more
important was to make sure the messenger died quietly and without anyone
disrupting his choice of dying before the ravages of his illness turned him
into a hollow body kept alive by unnatural means, for another's selfish
reasons. It was the least one could do for a brave soldier who never received
his just due.

Chapter 1

Five
Years Later

"Enough, Ati! Take a vacation. If I need you I’ll
call."

"Oh, yeah," he returned sarcastically.
"You’ll call me at the last minute and expect me to be there that
instant," he returned just as heated.

"Ati, don’t make me regret bringing you," she
warned.

"Bring me?
It’s my ship."

"You wouldn't have this nice ship if it hadn't been
for me, so stop whining."

"You lost my other ship."

Diana snorted in disgust. "Fresh out of the repair
yards you said, yet the engine plant was seriously flawed. If you had to
suddenly depart from one of your gambling expeditions that went bad, you would
have been left drifting. I saved you a lot of trouble."

"You didn't save me from all those people wanting to
know where she was docked. Some of them didn't ask nicely, you know."

"Baby," she mocked. "Do you want to be
mentored by me or not?" she demanded.

"Now you
tell me you're mentoring me. Yesterday it was 'I'm still thinking about
it,'" he mimicked.

If she was not annoyed with him she would have been amused
at his close approximation in imitating her, but then again, she didn't want to
encourage him because he could be insufferable at the most inopportune times,
like right now.

"I made my mind up last night," she returned
sounding distracted. She did not expect a grateful or even courteous thank you.

"It's been two years, Diana."

She had already tuned him out and was intent on reading
the console readouts. "There's our return mole. We're in," she
announced. She tapped her monitor to accept the message while pushing in her
earpiece for a firmer set.

"I got it, I got it," he muttered.

Ati manipulated his controls, bypassing their target
ship's security and tapping into their internal communications.

"Alright," she whispered as if they may overhear
her. "Make the offer Ati. Just don't sell my body or soul or you're going
to be a very sad person."

Ati rolled his eyes dramatically and sent a hail to their
target ship. Diana didn't take chances when she didn't have to, and in this
case, taping into another ship's communication system so she could manipulate a
hitch on a space ship was easy stuff.

Diana chuckled at the conversation between captain and
commander, amused at the frustration the captain must be feeling at having such
an incompetent second in command that she had no decision in appointing.
Assured of her ride she removed the earpiece and left the bridge. Ati would
handle the rest. She stopped in her quarters, went through her kit to be sure
it had just the basic necessities, and then made one last careful look at her
appearance. Nodding at her image, she proceeded to the exit hatch.

Ati joined her.

"Shouldn't someone be up front steering this
thing?" Diana asked.

"I really don't think this is a good idea for you to
go alone," he again argued. "It doesn't feel right."

She pursed her lips as she waited to disembark. Why he kept
repeating the same argument had her suspicious he thought he could wear her
down. It was not going to happen. Grow up,she mentally sent him. Diana pushed past him to stand in front of the hatch
that was about to open. "Go up front and make sure we don't cut them in
half."

"We're in their energy tow. If we crash into them
it's their own fault. Then they would have to repair my ship and I'll…"

"Then wish me a great vacation and I'll see you when
I see you," she interrupted, glaring at him to discard that idea.

"Diana, when you say that I know you're going to get
into trouble."

"Ati, let's get an understanding here. Number
one," she said angrily, "I've been wandering the galaxy longer than
you have and I'm still alive and healthy. Number two, you're the rookie and I'm
the expert in this business. When I get back if you still don't share that
concept you can find another person to mentor you…and wait another two or three
years for them to make up their mind," she added.

Without waiting for a response she was out the hatch the
moment there was enough room for her to pass through. She jumped onto the
extending ramp from the Wesley.

The sensitive hatch slid shut the moment it was cleared,
leaving a perturbed Ati staring through the porthole. Ati turned to go back to
bridge his lips stretched into a grim line. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask your
younger sister to teach you the business when you kept seeing her as someone to
protect. When did she become so competent that it scared him to watch her in
action?

Aggravated at the complexity of his situation, he plopped
down heavily into his seat. He sent a message to the military ship the Loyalist, or the renamed and civilian
owned freighter Wesley, letting them
know he delivered his package and was ready to depart.

"So, she thinks I need a vacation of my own, huh?
Well have no fear, sister dear, two can play this being coy game. Just a
friendly chit chat with an old acquaintance, you say."

* * *

"Commander LeMarks to...O'Rourke."

Eyes blinked open promptly. It took milliseconds to
determine where she was, if the ship was in danger, and the tone of the caller.

Ship's moving. No
alarms. He sounds impertinent. He needs a favor. Gods but he has his signals
mixed up, she thought disgustedly. If
he wants a favor he should be making nice.

Captain Helen O'Rourke stretched her lanky frame into
wakefulness and untangled her arms from her bed covers. As she moved the lights
in her cabin came up to second level, showing shadowy outlines of her sleeping
room.

"It had better be a good reason to wake me or he's
going to find himself inspecting the waste processors with a sewerbot as his
babysitter," she muttered to herself. "Go ahead, bridge." Silently she slapped herself on
the side of the head for her giving into the game playing and not addressing
him by his new rank. But it wasn't her idea to promote an incompetent on her ship and if he's not going to learn
protocol in addressing his CO then he's to accept her not acknowledging him.

"We're getting a hail from The Gypsum. They have a PP that needs a hitch going our way."

For a quick second her thoughts stuttered over the
announcement. Was he in full possession of his brain? Where does he intend on
putting this passenger up?

"GR with DC?" she asked anyway. The clearing of
a throat had her translating her request with impatience. "What's the going
rate picking up a passenger in this part of space with destination
calculated?"she enunciated in a
voice still hoarse with sleep. It's been two months and he hasn't got the BL
learned, she griped, and he still isn't prepared with the information before she
asked. She asked it every time. She had a hard time believing he went through any
of the Merchant Marine Officer's Academies.

Her jaw stretched into a joint cracking yawn. Sighing, she
sat up to prevent herself from falling back to sleep. Her pillow was too
inviting. The lights came up another level, revealing an atypical captain's
sleeping compartment. It had space for a reclining chair that could be recessed
into the wall, and what couldn't be seen, a private library inaccessible from
anywhere else on the ship. Few knew of its existence or location. Rather than
doing as Admiral Ri, who had turned an officer's cabin into her private library
aboard her battle cruiser, Amari, O'Rourke
chose to have hers hidden in her sleeping compartment where everything was
retractable, including the bed, so if she wanted to be surrounded by her books
while reading, she could. Every
captain with enough influence had her or his quarters remodeled and decorated
with the latest security gadgets.

At present, the one reading chair was buried under a
discarded uniform with boots under it where she would not trip over them. It
seemed like she had only a few hours of sleep. Glancing at her clock she noted
it was 0-four hundred.

Six hours. That was an improvement. What was taking him so
long with the information? He could ask the blasted computer, she groused.

She should not be complaining, since he now was asking
before bringing passengers aboard. It must have been the threat to toss him
overboard, she sniggered. He should not be so nervous about it. She would have
let him wear a spacesuit. Someone would pick up his beacon sooner or later.

Perhaps that was being too severe. She shook her head in
amusement. Nope. Some people needed to be dumped into deep space.

She really needed to get out of this mood. From experience
she knew it cut the flow of creative ideas. That got a soft grunt from her. The
memory of who had told her that and the circumstances they were in put her in a
better frame of mind. Those were days when she was fool hearty and took
vacations to places on a whim. That was before she assumed command of her first
ship.

Dropping her feet to the deck she pushed herself up. Her
fingers curled around her soft robe, pulling it off its hook near the bed. Her
waking thoughts were leaning to the introspective sort and it was too early for
that. Boredom did that to her. Her nose wrinkled with that observation.

"I think I'm going through another midlife
crisis," she said softly to herself. "Just how many do we get per
life?"

Stepping into her front room she remembered she had left a
mess on the deck that could trip her up.

"Lights up four," she directed. Lights came up
to a soft glow; six being daylight for her. She avoided stepping on the
dismantled cleaning bot parts she had neatly laid out. At the kitchen kiosk she
selected warm water with a twist of lemon and turned back to the bot, frowning
as her thoughts returned to why she had
dismantled it instead of sending it to the repair shop.

"Captain, as of yesterday fifty-five crowns."

The nervous clearing of his throat had her preparing
herself for anything; like maybe it would suddenly occur to him that they had
no more available spare bunks without a major moving of supplies from a cabin
they had morphed into a storage room.

"That'll cut the loss on the damaged freight,"
he added in a deeper voice, giving a poor try at nonchalance.

Why was she still hopeful that the deadhead is actually
going to think beyond himself? She really should rethink this change of heart
stuff. It was so much easier to drop deadbeats off at the next stop to let them
find their own way home, or for the serious offenders, dumping them out portals
without space suits so they did not get another chance at injuring others. Now
days it was a lot more complicated and she was giving some three chances to
straighten up while with the outlaws, handing them over to local law
enforcement. It behooved her to give men and women who were monsters in one space
sector a chance to be monsters in another by turning them over to people that
just may release them for the right bribe. And that brought her thoughts back
to LeMarks.

He was not just a dishonor to anyone that bore the title
of officer but a mistake. She gave a silent sigh, wondering how many chances
she would give him to stop using outside favors to be promoted to inertia.
Well, his duties were nearly that now. He had been with her for two years
starting at first lieutenant and her file on him and recordings of his
incompetence was larger than anyone that had been in service for twenty years.

"Log it," she finally said, "and verify the
PP's ID. Who is it? Another sailor hitching back home?" she thought to
ask.

"Hmm, uhh, didn't say," he admitted, and then
added in a rush to cover up his lapse, "I'll begin the pickup as soon as
the credits are cleared."

He still hadn't told her where he planned to bunk the PP
so she decided to take care of two problems with one move. "Good. Since he's
paying…"

"She," he interjected quickly. "Diana
Rue."

Captain O'Rourke gave a soft snort. Females did not even
have to wave a cloth of pheromones under his nose, just being female was enough
to get him sniffing. Well, she had a curve ball for him. He was going to pay
for the difference on this one too. "Since there are no more bunks in the
small cabins, set her up in the owner's stateroom," she said with
finality.

Only one other time had she rented out the owner's
stateroom and that was to a sheik's family whose ship had become crippled under
pirate attack. While her crew repaired as much damage as possible to get the
ship moving to the nearest major port O'Rourke had the displeasure of hosting
the privileged family.

She laughed aloud, stopping LeMarks in mid sentence.
"You'll move? You'll give up
your quarters? That's thoughtful of you. But it'll take too long for you to
move out and make your quarters
livable."

"My quarters? We have crew…"

"There are no vacancies in the cheap seats,
LeMarks," she interrupted.

The scuttlebutt that she heard from below decks was the
crew was tired of giving up their quarters for undercut prices. If the fare
didn't provide a profit margin then a bonus was not awarded the crewmember
displaced by a passenger. What LeMarks game was, was anyone's guess, but the
repercussion, low crew morale, was enough that O'Rourke decided to remove his
authority to allow passengers aboard. She had steadily been canceling any
authority his unwarranted promotions from HQ awarded him on her ship, since HQ
was not looking at her reports on his incompetence.

"She gets what we have available and while we're on
the subject, in all fairness, she will also get half price of a regular bunk. In
case you've forgotten, you took on extra passengers at half-price and gave them
each their own cabins at the expense of your fellow crewmates."

"You can't hold me financially responsible for every
passenger we take on this trip." He lowered his voice considerably.

"As I told you when you first started this side
business of yours, I hold you responsible for all the PPs you bring aboard, especially since you started this half price
giveaway and giving each their own
cabin. This was your last chance to redeem yourself on making such decisions.
Rule of thumb, Mister LeMarks, if you set the price for one PP it goes for all
PPs on this tour. Word of mouth is where we get the majority of our business
and word does spread fast on the docks on who is cutting prices." She
wanted to go on about how the consequences of undercutting the other freighters
would bring the cold shoulder between crews and probably a lot of other small
sleights but she doubted he could take that much information in. Her method of
curtailing his unauthorized bringing on passengers and thinking to stick the
ship's purser with the loss was to charge his payroll the difference. However,
it only slowed him down. She really hated HQ for sticking him on her ship.
Their reasoning was since she leased the ship from them, they had a say in one
third of her crew and her second in command.

O'Rourke accessed her console and reviewed what access
rights LeMarks had. She set him up with access equivalent to a child passenger.
There was enough information in his personnel file for her to justify her
removal of his authority and next port stop, dump him.

Pleased with herself, she signed off her terminal and rose
from her seat. Her eyes rested on the dismembered cleaning bot that had gone
awry. It was annoying that it barked at her for every scrap of clothing it
picked up, and whined when it was
asked to do something.

Disgustedly, she tossed her nightwear on her bed and she moved
into her workout room. She had a feeling if she wanted a workout today, now
would be the only chance she would get. Then she would go see who this Diana
Rue was.

"I really don't know what LeMarks is thinking. Where
was he planning on putting her? What was I thinking, I should have asked him.
What's his payoff in this sudden taking on PPs? Smuggling? Their belongings
have been scanned. No contraband."

Standing on the workout mat she stared at herself in the
mirror.

"Alright, O'Rourke. Give it a rest."

With the exercise facility locked against any intrusions,
she began her session. Focused within, she moved slowly, choosing the soothing
T'ai Chi rather than a more vigorous kata. When finished and feeling more alert
she headed to the shower where she always began her day under hot water
arranging her to do list.

* * *

Commander LeMarks's puffy face was still crimson when the
two ships came abreast. The uniform collar pressed tightly around his neck.
Automatically he gave an irritated tug to pull the tunic down. The jerk on the
fabric gave a small ripping sound. Quickly his hands smoothed the taught fabric
not able to see over his rounded belly if there was a noticeable tear. Overall
he had the appearance of a dab of meat stuffed in a puffed up pastry shell. His
hand moved up to undo the top button of his tunic until he remembered what had
happened when the captain found him once on duty and out of uniform. Once
caught was enough. He slumped further into the command chair that didn't
comfortably adjust to someone his size.

Though it happened when he was still a lieutenant and he
thought working alone gave him leeway in his attire, he found officers didn't
have permission to remove a tunic or unbutton a collar while on duty. Bother
that it was boring and he was to just sit and monitor a scope. As punishment he
was detailed to trap duty with a repairbot that would not let him take breaks.
For weeks he could not get the stink out of his nostrils. He did not feel the
infraction deserved that harsh of mistreatment. No one died or suffered any
physical injuries. Well, take that back. He squeezed his hand into a fist and
squinted to see the faint scar on his hand so it would reignite fresh feelings
of indulgent indignation. When he had complained to HQ he was told the captain
made and enforced ship rules. Not even his contact in HQ would intervene in
disciplinary actions aboard ship.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of more pleasant
things, but the uniform was tighter than usual. He had eaten a large meal before
starting his shift, but it was no larger than usual, he mentally whined. His
eyes moved to another chair, which was roomier and more comfortable, but
because the captain was not on the bridge he was in command and should be able
to sit in the chair. His peevish
thoughts relentlessly noted that her chair was designed for her figure rather
than his. It was rather offensive of her to make it almost impossible for him
to fit when he was given night bridge duty and therefore should be sitting in that chair. Lt. Commander Emert of the
second shift sat in the chair.

Impatiently he drummed his fingers on his thigh. It was
taking too long for the ship to pass security scans. If it were up to him, he
would let the ship into the bay to off load the passenger and they would all be
on their way. What could a tiny ship do to them? Take a shot at them while in
the U? He sniggered at the idea. Suicidal. And it was up to security to make
sure the passengers disembarking were not armed. He smirked at the thought of
security being responsible for anything that went wrong with any pesky
passenger.

"Commander, are you going to do the MnG to the
Q?" Ensign Henly asked, intruding into his thoughts.

"I can escort her to her quarters, Commander,"
Lt. Mack offered, keeping his lips from curling up into a smile at the
commander's discomfort with his tight clothing and probably not understanding
the abbreviated terms.

Commander LeMarks gave the lieutenant his best glare to
prevent him from pointing out that he was restricted to the bridge during his
watch unless relieved by the captain's explicit and direct order. The captain
made it clear she would dump him, Wesley's second in command, in space for
desertion of post should he disobey her orders. Even if he didn't admit that he
believed she would carry out her threat, the weakness of his knees and upset
stomach attested to how he interpreted the threat. Nervously he glanced at the
security bot that would see that he obeyed his orders. Every deck had security
bots to protect the ship against takeovers and sudden emergencies, but the fact
that this one had specific orders about him was mortifying.

Petulantly, he glowered at the bot and then rested his
face in his palm. As second in command he should be making sure there was
nothing dangerous about the new passengers. What if Evangeline Meso, the
notorious femme fatale pirate was on board disguised as a passenger? he
reasoned. She loved to dress as a rich woman and setup the ship for her pirates
to board. Commander LeMarks, an ardent fan of hers, kept a wanted poster of her
in his room with a fresh flower on the table below the poster. He thought no
one knew of his obsession with her.

A flash on his console went unnoticed.

"Sir, they passed security."

Commander LeMarks glowered at his lieutenant for interrupting his thoughts a second time. Then he
remembered that he had a passenger to bring aboard, except he couldn't leave
the bridge. Who was going to escort her to her quarters? His eyes still on his
lieutenant slitted as he realized who it logically would be. A spasm of
jealously twisted in his gut. The lieutenant was not handsome by a long shot,
LeMarks thought disdainfully. But his eyes didn't allow him to ignore the
lieutenant's youthful and slim appearance in his uniform while his own belly
showed prominently over his uniform waistband. It was a painful reminder of his
other grotesque features, namely a puffy face that matched his belly.
Somewhere, buried deep was the memory of a more lithe and fit body that did him
proud. These shadowy dreams only created more anxiety to his waking life.

"Sir, holding up a passing taxi is not good for
picking up PPs in the future," Lt. Mack reminded him in an undertone.

Crossly, Commander LeMarks opened up another channel.
"Lt. Commander Jade." It startled him that that was who he asked for.
He would have taken it back if he could.

"Yes, Mister LeMarks?"

His brain shut down as if waiting to recover from who he
had called. Why had he called her?

"PP arriving in repair bay seven," Lt. Mack
reminded.

"Ehh, PPinseven," he mumbled quickly. He took a
deep breath and released it noisily, realizing he may have not made sense.
"Escort her to the Q," he said with studied slowness. He was feeling
off balance. So many errors in such a short span of time.

"I gather this has been cleared by the captain?"

"Captain's orders," he blurted. She sounded more
authoritarian then he, he thought jealously. Realizing his clumsy handling of
the interaction he hurriedly cut the channel without the usual protocol.
Sulkily he sank lower in the captain's chair, crossing his arms over his
prominent belly. He could feel the fabric tighten in sensitive places and cut
into others but it gave him a sense of pleasure in punishing his imperfect
self.

* * *

With hands on hips Commander Jade watched with an
experienced eye the docking of the small messenger ship enclosed in the
freighter's energy tow. Her eyes moved to the security tower and then to the
energy containment field looking for any evidence of failure. The docking
engineer and his assistant had been wakened and had made good time to their
posts. They were standing in their protective bubble overlooking the ships
arrival. Had this been a ship that was in for maintenance the buffering four
level U-structure would have been extended and bots would already be hovering
around it running diagnostics and scanning for anything that needed repair.

Commander Jade was head of ship's security, among other
things, and had already been on her way to see who the PP was before LeMarks
assigned the job to her. He probably had thought she would be sleeping at this
time, and normally she would have been.

The arrival time of the PP, so late in shift, could have
been just coincidence but her job was not to take things at face value. The
bridge, fifty maintenance, sixteen of her security, and her were the only crew
members up. She glanced back at the docking engineer and gave a hand signal. A
signal wave was returned that verified the capture was clean. The small ship
was snug in their energy sling.

Docking lights brightened the messenger ship, throwing
interesting shadows on the draped shapes along the bulkhead and behind
Commander Jade. Her gaze swept the dark shapes looking for any movement that
should not be there then returning her attention back to the ship. Before the
locks were confirmed the smaller ships aft portal slid open.

Someone either wanted off the ship fast or the captain was
in a hurry to get back on course. Everyone had a schedule to meet and it was
all tied to credits, she mused. Unless this person had a bomb, though it was
not likely, taking over the ship was more profitable than blowing them up.

Her gaze flickered for a moment at the security turret
where security officer CPO Reve was on duty. She looked alert and from the
flickering of reflected light on her face, she was running scans on the ship
and its occupants.

A thump reminded her of her present job.

Her attention returned to the PP. Their new passenger had
jumped onto the partially extended walkway. Not pausing as scans ran over her
she moved through the first security bubble with no alarms going off. She was
nondescript at first study. She carried a small grip that people who were not
in one place for very long traveled with. Her clothing was ordinary and
comfortable for long flights. There were no worn spots in any of the pockets
indicating favorite items absent, nor were they bulging with packed items, but
they were used. Her shoes were common spacer style but were cared for more than
most people who seemed to think scuffed work boots were stylish. She was not
military or law enforcement, she was sure of that but there was a wariness
around her that reminded Jade of someone that spent a lot of time being aware
of her surroundings and not easily taken by surprise.

"Welcome aboard the Wesley, Dama Rue." Commander Jade extended her hand to assist
her up onto the platform.

The ramp the PP had to climb was there intentionally to
entrap a visitor should the first security scan find something that needed
deeper investigation. An energy field strong enough to contain a level 2
explosion would surround the visitor and render those in the containment
envelope unconscious.

Jade's eyes moved to the hand that returned the clasp. The
angle of the grip gave her a flash view of a shadow just inches from the cuff
of the long sleeved coat. The PP was not wearing a dark shirt under her coat to
justify the shadow.

Jade's grip did not falter. Of course she was going to
know her name. She was wearing a name tag. Another passenger that needed to be
watched, her cautious nature warned. This tour was taking on the trappings of
the scorpion and frog game, she thought.

The unclamping of the locks had both women turning to
watch the small vesseldrop back as
the freighter continued at cruise speed. Once the smaller ship was out of Wesley's wake the freighter would
increase 3gs above cruise speed to make up for the slow down.

"Diana Rue." Jade turned to the PP, breaking the
silence, "Will you follow me, please?" She moved toward the lift.

"You have a full load of passengers, hey?" the
passenger said.

Jade's mouth tightened in disapproval. The PP must have
gotten that information from LeMarks. One day he was going to sell them out to
a pretty pirate with a nasty band of cut throats at her disposal if he had not
already, Jade thought.

"We have a popular route." Jade's eyes studied
the shorter woman a moment, trying to place the accent. "Hitching far with
us?"

"No."

Jade had hoped the woman would say something in a longer
string of words so she could hear the accent again. It served her right for not
asking the right questions. Any more she asked and it would be stepping beyond
courtesy and into security. No need to alert the passenger that she was
suspected of being more than a hitch hiker.

As they stepped into the elevator it beeped it had another
call. Normally the crew didn't use this elevator no matter what time because it
was the elevator the captain would use, should she call for it. Though the
captain was not unduly harsh with the crew, there was the normal aversion of
deckhands to be seen riding with the captain.

Annoyed but curious she allowed the elevator to move to
its new destination, deck 8. Deck 8 had a scattering of crew quarters and
H-pods, but was mainly storage for large items, like shuttles, machine parts,
and damaged freight.

The lift stopped and the door slid open. Jade's eyes
hardened when six of the twelve teenage vixens stepped into the elevator.

Unconcerned at being caught where they had been informed
was off limits the girls stepped into the lift. This proved to Jade that her
version of hauling PPs in hibernation pods until they reached their destination
was a better idea than letting them wander without supervision. Realistically,
for the short hops, it wasn't practicable to hibernate but it gave her some
satisfaction thinking it. They obviously were finding a way to bypass the
security bots. That was going to be moved up higher on her priority list of
things to do.

"This is not a passenger liner, girls. There is no
roaming at this hour. Deck four."

Small purple eyes stared at her, showing neither defiance
nor interest in what was said. Once she finished speaking tiny bright eyes
moved to the new passenger, scrutinizing her with a great deal of interest.

The energy in the lift made the hairs at the back of her
neck stand up. She glanced at the teens and then the PP.

The door slid open at deck four. The corridor was vacant
and the lights were dimmed to a low level indicating it was dead-time. The
security bot was shut down. Rather than key in a security override that they
may well be able to record, Jade decided to let the Geek reactivate it from his
console.

When the door slid closed behind the teens Lt. Commander Jade
mentally cursed LeMarks. "Jade to security," she called softly in her
wrist comm.

"Security here, Commander."

"Reactivate deck 4 security bot and find out how it's
being deactivated."

There was a moment of silence and then, "Commander,
it shows it's activated."

"Not. Scramble up help if you need to but do it now,
PO."

"Aye, Commander."

The elevator stopped on deck two and Jade stepped out
quickly, nearly forgetting her passenger. Turning slightly toward the PP after
she was five strides down the corridor, she noted with approval that Diana Rue
was not hanging back. The urge to get this escort duty done as speedily as
possible had her impatient as her thoughts moved on to more important things.

"You're on deck two, section B along with the
captain. There is also an exercise room between your quarters and the captains.
If you have a need to use it see the captain. Section A is forward and around
that is C. An assortment of officers and a dozen reserved guest suites are in A
and C."

Jade nearly snickered in amusement at calling them guest
suites. Due to staff restructuring and redeployments originated from HQ there
were considerably less officers per noncoms. What had previously been officers'
cabins were converted by name only into quarters for passengers that wanted to
pay extra for the slightly larger space. These were the salesmen that sold
products that required a technical team to accompany the installation and
training of the buyer, and naturally the Wesley was transporting their equipment. The quarters were empty at the moment. The
sales group, a dozen of them and from a mix bag of species, remained behind at
the last stop since their trainees were not picking up their instructions as
easily as their front office thought they would. But the rooms were technically
still reserved, and if they caught a ride from a fast taxi they would want them
back. When she received the message that LeMarks was taking on another PP she
worried he was going to do something unethical and sublet one of the cabins. If
that got out in dock scuttlebutt they would have a legal issue on their hands
with the company that paid a lot of credits for the cabin space. What was he
thinking? He wasn't that stupid. Even a lowly grunge on the Wesley understood the business concept
of no overbooking.

"You can roam the corridors on deck 2 but don't be
surprised to be challenged by a security bot if you should be too curious and
or loiter. On this deck, they're active and armed." Jade was relived that
they were visible and that the one above the captain's quarters showed her
quarters locked and secured.

The door to the owner's stateroom swished open.

"No one has business in this cabin outside of you so
if anyone appears without the captain or me notifying you beforehand, let one
of us know by voice comm." Jade waved the PP before her and then followed.
"Normally the security bots will take care of intruders, but nothing is
guaranteed."

That got a chuckle from the PP, which earned a rueful
smile from her.

"The crew often refers to these quarters as Q for the
Queen's Suites rather than the owner's suites. If you need a guide about ship
there's a schematic of the ship in the computer as well as rules and guidelines
for your ride aboard the Wesley with what's off limits. I trust you'll follow the
guidelines."

"Aye. Don't want anyone confining me to me quarters,
hey?" Diana dropped her kit on a comfortable looking couch while looking
around the spacious and luxurious stateroom. "Though, this won't be a
harsh penalty." Her eyes moved back to the commander catching her annoyed
expression. Her eyes were focused elsewhere as if she were distracted with
something not in the room. Diana thought with amusement that the 'girls' must
be running the captain and the security officer ragged.

"Let me show you the amenities of your
quarters," Jade said, returning her full focus on Diana.

* * *

After the officer left Diana stood in the center of the
living area that was a combination of dinning and sitting room. Diana was aware
it served a dual function of entertaining present or potential customers
onboard. Right now the living room had a couch that formed a crescent shape
around a center table, a working desk with computer in one corner and chairs
set to the side for reading. The dinning room had a small table that could be
expanded, a kitchenette, should someone want to actually cook food, and a kiosk
should she chose to order her nourishment already formed in something
recognizable.

Altering her sight, she scanned the two rooms for
monitoring equipment. Done with her visual inspection, she pulled a small
instrument from one of her pockets and made certain each monitor she found
already deactivated would not become activated by an outside source. She then
searched the room for what she could not spot visually. Finished, a box was
removed from another pocket and around the room her devices were placed. Fifty
percent of passengers that could afford it bought jamming devices to thwart
invasion of their privacy which was protected by Galactic Travelers Laws. Diana
figured if someone aboard Wesley should try to activate any devices in the room that were not under her control
they would not be too surprised they were unable to.

Hidden entrances were looked for and one was found in the
ensuite. Later she would see where it led to; until then, she placed an alarm
to warn her when the door opened. Glancing at her timer, she noted it was about
the time to expect a visit from the captain. Passengers assigned the owner's
stateroom warranted a visit from the captain even if it was to tell her she is
not so special; they just had nothing else available.

A chime announced a visitor. Whoever it was, they were
punctual to the Royal Rules of Courtesy, one hour after arrival, not Military
Standard which was minutes after arrival. She doubted it would be Commander
LeMarks. Taking a quick glance around her quarters she moved to the couch and
fluffed up one pillow that had the imprint of her leg on it when she was
placing one of her monitors behind the couch.

"Enter."

The door swished open.

A tall auburn haired woman dressed in a dark turtleneck
sweater with captain epaulettes on her shoulders stood at attention before her. Diana's first impression was
that she wore her uniform well. Her hair was swept back, indicating she was not
shy about showing her face; makeup was lightly applied. Her hair was damp but
not wet and there was perspiration along the hairline. Since her room was only
a few steps away Diana wondered what she was doing before she changed into a
fresh uniform, not taking the time to allow the hairdryer to finish its job.

Diana gave a mental review of the captain's file but files
left out things like why a well decorated rear admiral in the UPT galaxy fleet
to be promoted to vice admiral chose to become captain on a civilian
freighter…and there laid the tickle. Was it because of family politics? Or, was
she on the list for assassination because of her fleet's successful campaign to
root out pirates in the Borik Sector? In the few moments of study, Diana was
sure it wasn't just one reason.

She speculated on whether the captain was the type to wear
patches of lucky charms sewn on her under tunic, then decided not, since there
was nothing but the captain under the sweater. Some people tattooed them on
their bodies. Diana had enough experience to know not to insult another's
charm, though she found them as unreliable as people.

Diana's eyes tracked to the captain's. Silverish brown
eyes were studying her as intensely as she was the captain. She decided the
captain's eyes were where her strength laid if it were to be a face to face
confrontation. One could grow cold from a dark look from her. She had the
personal energy to pull off that type of intimidation.

She wondered why the captain was letting the Carrion
disguised as teenage Comatians roam. Maybe she believed she had the upper hand.
And the biggest question of them all, why should she care?

Curiosity, another part of her answered.

* * *

Captain O'Rourke stood before the owner's cabin wondering
what Vicky meant by 'you're going to love this one' which she had interpreted
to mean more trouble. Her shoulder twitched under the itchy fabric. For this
anticipated quick visit she didn't put on an undergarment and already she was
regretting it.

This was going to be a quick visit to lay out the rules
and make sure LeMarks didn't bring a pirate on board.

The door swished open.

O'Rourke moved her face into a polite smile. The passenger
stood in the middle of the room as if waiting for her.

Diana Rue was 5 feet 5 inches, dressed in common loose
fitting travel overalls that off-duty paramilitary types favored. Her eye
coloring was not clear in the low lighting. Her pale curly hair was too short
to get in her eyes but long enough to cover her ears; not giving away the
shape, and a clue to her species, though she was sure it matched her ID file.
She had not bothered to read it since fake IDs with altered facial and body
marks were easily acquired which made having a good security chief a necessity.
She wore no visible jewelry or body adornment; no makeup, nor was her hair in
any particular style. In fact, she was quite ordinary looking.

O'Rourke's eyes moved to the couch where the passenger had
dropped her grip. It had a small clip on it that the wary would know not to
touch unless they had a death wish. It was called the Enforcer by the manufacturer and so far the crime element had not
been able to disable it. If she wasn't law enforcement or military than she was
someone else that could be trouble.
But then again, maybe she was on a vacation or just returning to her home base.

"I'm Captain O'Rourke of the Wesley. May I come in?" O'Rourke had the distinct impression
that she had just been categorized and fit into some nice neat peg hole.
O'Rourke loved those types because she never fit neatly in peg holes and
watching the face of someone that misjudged her was a small pleasure she
enjoyed.

"It's your ship."

"And you're paying for this cabin space, Ma'am."

"Not, Ma'am, Diana Rue."

"Diana Rue, then. Is there a particular reason why
you hooked up with my ship?"

"You're going to Hebron."

"The prison mining waystation? You have a job or
permit for business there?" There it was, that twitch of her lips, though
whether it was from amusement or a frown she had no way of knowing. They were
the only civilian ship that serviced
Hebron.

What stopped at the Hebron waystation were mineral barges
that needed minor repair from the prison mines below, prisoners released dead
or alive and the mineral freighters that picked up the released prisoners, minerals
and dropped off new prison workers. The mines supplied raw material for three
corporations that purchased the prison workers from various galactic prisons.
Supposedly the operation was monitored closely by a neutral party that made
sure safety standards were followed to the galactic law and the prisoners only
stayed one year for the sake of their health. Was she an investigator?

The prison workers had volunteered to work in the mines to
reduce their sentences considerably since the mines were dangerous work even
with all the advancement in robotics and engineering feats. The health
insurance for the civilian population was high whereas prisoners had none. On
the station a five person crew monitored the planet below, serviced the barges,
and gave the few guards below respite on weekly rotations. The Wesley brought parts and repaired what
the staff could not. They also did maintenance on the station that the Hebron
engineers could not handle and supplied new games for the inhabitants.

"Is there a reason why you need to know all
this?"

"Just so after we finish with our deliveries and
maintenance we don't leave you behind by accident. Six hours is our slated time
but sometimes we finish sooner…"

"I'll remember that," Diana said.

"This is a working ship not a cruise liner so my crew
has their daily duties which isn't catering to passengers."

"You'll have more trouble with your other passengers
than me."

That was not reassuring to O'Rourke. What did she mean by that? She had only been on board
for thirty minutes. Who had she met besides Jade…LeMarks? But he had not left
the bridge nor had he spoke to the passenger. The transaction was handled by
the captain of the messenger vessel. Maybe Jade was right and this passenger
did bare closer scrutiny.

"If you should need anything," she paused
slightly, "call for Commander Jade or me. LeMarks will be occupied with
other duties."

"Will you shoot me if I take a walk now and
then?"

"Shoot you?" O'Rourke gave a short laugh.
"Check the cabin console there." She gestured to the computer.
"Commander Jade downloaded the rules of passage. Not much different than
any other working ship. You will get netted if you step aboard the bridge or any other off limits area without my express
permission," she stated firmly and then added, "So, should an unwise
officer offer you a tour, keep that in mind."

She waited for Diana Rue to nod she understood and then
continued. "This is late shift. Early morning by ship time. If you want to
grab some sleep before morning mess you have three hours. Four dings over the
PA announces breakfast if you want to eat fresh food with the other
passengers…forth deck to the left of elevator B. It's marked 'Chow Hall.'
Otherwise," she nodded to the kitchen kiosk's autofood dispenser that
produced anything ordered in a healthy chemical compound but shaped into
something recognizable that you ordered, "you've got everything you need
here. We'll be in Hebron in three weeks."

Captain O'Rourke realized it was time for her to go.

"Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"
O'Rourke asked.

"I don't want to take you from your duties,"
Diana politely replied, hiding her surprise well. The captain was not shy about
finding more out about a curiosity aboard her ship.

A nice get-acquainted dinner with enough drink to loosen
the tongue was a simultaneous thought with the two women.

"You'll be a relief in my humdrum schedule, believe
me," the captain assured her dryly. Her eyes silvered for a moment.

"Alright. Dinner with captain is on my schedule. Time
and place?" Diana asked, trying to translate the glint in the captain's
eyes along with the other body signals.

"My quarters, if you don't mind. 1700."

"Aye, then. Place and time is fine by me," Diana
agreed.

O'Rourke nodded and turned to leave but not before giving
one more glance around. She was rather pleased LeMarks over-booked because now
she had a legitimate reason why not to host a party at the next three larger
ports. There were some harbormasters that seemed to think every freighter
captain owed them lavish parties aboard their ships to continue business, and
the smaller ports tried to mimic this privilege by demanding to come aboard. So
far O'Rourke had an understanding with most, but it didn't mean polite refusals
would always work.

The original buyer, Osmona, purchased the ship from
military surplus. She was a very large woman that liked space around her and
had grand ideas of doing business. Osmona's nickname Queen Osmona was due to
her ability to carry off a regal aura for her size and when she decided who
earned a private party and who didn't, there were no arguments. O'Rourke could
only image just what type of parties were held on the Wesley before she captained it. Since Osmona's marriage she had
moved onto bigger businesses and the owner's cabin became solely used for
entertaining port officials, owners, managers of way stations or ship's
captains whose vessel they were repairing in space.